Strip
by DRoWN.uNTo.Me
Summary: In an attempt to rid the world of purebloods, the Ministry has passed a law requiring eligible purebloods to marry halfbloods/muggleborns. Emlyn, a young pureblood with a mudblood-hating past and Remus, an apparently eligible werewolf halfblood, find themselves living a companionable life after having chosen each other. Things go a bit awry, though, when Remus makes a confession.
1. Chapter 1: Compulsory

_Chapter 1- Compulsory_

Emlyn stepped out of the shower, taking care not to slip on the slick, grey tiles. It had been weeks since they threw out the tattered old floor mat that had occupied the space on which she was now standing for nearly ten years before she even knew Remus. It had taken little to convince the man to be rid of it, thin and worn as it was, but neither of them had put much effort into getting a new one. Moving carefully to grab her towel off of the covered toilet bowl, she made a mental note- before she fell and broke her neck on the slippery tiles, she would really have to buy a new mat.

With a sigh, she slipped on her panties and bra, taking a second to examine herself in the foggy mirror. Like this, with the glass plastered with minuscule water droplets, she looked only like a blur of a creamy color, darkened by the dim bathroom lighting. Her scarred right hand reflexively clenched into a fist, remembering a time when she had really wanted to be nothing more than a blur. _How long ago was that?_ she thought to herself, _Two years ago? Three, already?_ An overwhelming feeling of nausea slid through her body, culminating into a sharp pain in the pit of her stomach. She was sure that this ill feeling wasn't because of the result of what happened three years ago, because she had actually landed a better fate than most. It was because of the fact that it happened at all.

The wizarding world was in an uproar when Kingsley Shacklebolt announced the enactment of the Marriage Law to the press. In the beginning, the act had sounded innocent enough, with such a general and non-threatening title. _Marriage Law._ It wasn't anything that they had to worry about, surely. Such acts were drafted and passed through the legal system constantly, usually outlining small changes internally- which office would handle the change of surname, whose signatures were needed to nullify a marriage, and the like. This law seemed no different, which is why it had already made its rounds through the Ministry system by the time the populace started to truly understand the Marriage Law's implications.

"In order to create a more harmonious society," Minister Shacklebolt had said, "and in light of the war that has just ended, this law has been passed by the Ministry of Magic." Emlyn remembered watching from a side alley as the leader of her world essentially told her that she was being forced to marry a mudblood. She had stood there in the shadows, shocked into stillness. "Full cooperation is expected," she heard him say through a kind of haze. There was a buzzing in her ears and it was as if she were viewing this all from above, an out of body experience that only intensified as the crowd gathered and pressed closer to the Minister's apparition. Everyone in the wizarding world was watching this.

He continued to speak, but Emlyn couldn't catch her breath fast enough. "Full cooperation is expected," Shacklebolt had said aloud. She had seen the glint in his eye though, that added, "And it will be enforced." She'd seen that look enough times that she knew the taste of it, the pain that it could bring. Escaping from London was useless. They already had her parents in Azkaban, which meant they already had her name, and if they had that, there was nothing that would deter them from capturing her. Emlyn understood the strength of the Ministry now that it was in Kingsley Shacklebolt's hands. She also understood how determined the new Minister was to eliminate purebloods so that a Voldemort situation could not be replicated. There was honestly no point in running, or hiding, or trying anything. They had her in their hands, as they had all other veritaserum-confessed Death Eaters and their children, and they could crush them all with a single glance if they wanted to. Emlyn's cloak caught on the uneven brick wall as she slid down it, sitting, her knees to her chest.

"_Your father's daughter_," her mother would've said to her with a cold sneer, "_Always giving up so easily._" But Emlyn didn't know what else to do.

* * *

She had felt out of place and very much unwelcome at the Ministry of Magic. After being sharply directed to the second floor by a short yet severe-looking woman, she eventually found the correct room and was met by familiar faces. Emlyn could still name them all, these pureblood children she had grown up with. They were the only friends she had ever known. _Friends and _relatives, she thought with a slight grin, _What a fantastic family reunion_.

The room consisted mostly of males, Emlyn had been surprised to find. She mentioned it to Genevieve, a blonde, green-eyed beauty- a second cousin once removed, if she remembered correctly.

"I heard that most of the girls actually came here last week," Genevieve informed her.

"They didn't want to get stuck with the crappy, leftover mudblood men that have a pureblood fetish," Gracian called from across the room. He was surprisingly relaxed, nonchalant even, as he raised his feet on to the coffee table. Gracian had always been an insolent, amusing, and rather infuriating relative. Genevieve only rolled her eyes. Emlyn couldn't find anything to say.

The Ministry was at least kind enough to let them choose, from a list of faces, names, and profiles, whom they would like to marry. There were too few mudbloods to choose from, though, so that it worked out to roughly six pureblood females to a halfblood male, ten males to a female. Obviously, the Ministry wasn't kind enough to let them really choose their partners; they only allowed them the chance of whom they wanted. The mudbloods would be making the final call.

Emlyn's eyes skimmed the page.

"Some very eligible bachelors you ladies have got there on your sheet," Gracian said with a laugh in his voice, sliding down into a seat next to Genevieve. He hovered over her shoulder, reading the list of names.

"And I'm sure your eligible bachelorettes are positively delightful," Genevieve said without missing a beat. "Give me." Before he could react, she snatched his list of mudblood ladies away from him. After giving it a onceover, she produced a very improper snort that made Emlyn remember why she used to hang out with Genevieve so much. "I think I'll stick to my list, thank you very much," she said, shoving the list back at Gracian.

As the two continued to bicker, Emlyn briefly noted that, in a different time, Genevieve and Gracian could have been married. They would've made a lovely couple, arguing and in love, and their parents would have had no objections in the slightest. She sighed. Those times were over.

She continued to peruse the list as Gracian, Genevieve, and nearly everyone else in the room starting recalling old memories of uncomfortable ball gowns, insufferable dress robes, and stifling summer evenings at this person's or that person's manor. Emlyn tried to block them out; there was no use remembering such things, when the memories hurt so much to recall and took so much effort to file away again.

Eventually she reached the last page of the packet, which listed only two people. Her eyes fell on the picture as the name fell silently from her lips: _Remus Lupin_.

It shook her to the core. They had put a werewolf on the list. Sure, he was still a wizard with a wand, but he was a _werewolf_. This label trumped everything, anything else that he could be called. That the Ministry had considered putting him on the list was appalling. That they had actually done it was insulting, a sure and pointed jab at them all.

"Look at that scar. He's rather handsome, in a tired yet rugged, let's-go-mountain-climbing kind of way," Genevieve said, looking over Emlyn's shoulder at Remus' profile. _More like a 'let's-go-howl-at-the-full-moon' kind of way_, Emlyn thought darkly. She wanted to shove those words right back into Genevieve's mouth and tell her what she knew about the man, the lycanthrope, but the blonde had turned to talk to Gracian again. Emlyn couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from Remus' photo, wanting to burn acidic holes through it.

Then, suddenly, she remembered something her father once told her when she was preparing to be inducted into the Death Eater circle. She couldn't have been older than fifteen or sixteen at the time.

_"When something catches you unexpectedly, or when something doesn't go the way you want it to, turn it into an opportunity," he had said, watching her with a steady gaze as she practiced fluid wand movement, "That is the best way to defeat your enemy. If you weren't expecting it, surely your opponent wasn't either, and getting them off their guard is winning more than half the battle."_

The wheels in Emlyn's brain started turning, trying to figure out what method would yield the best outcome for her. She could choose someone other than Remus, of course. However, that wouldn't guarantee anything. The profiles the Ministry workers provided said nothing of their attitude toward purebloods, and Emlyn was sure that there was little to nothing written down of their true personalities. With Remus Lupin, on the other hand, she knew one thing about him that was absolutely certain: he was a werewolf. Maybe, just maybe, this could work to her advantage. Perhaps his being a werewolf would lead him to be less bigoted. Perhaps the fact that purebloods had worked with other werewolves would soften him to her. Perhaps, as an outcast himself, he wouldn't mind having a different type of outcast as a companion.

She had circled his name and turned in the form.


	2. Chapter 2: Erstwhile

_Chapter 2- Erstwhile_

Emlyn and a number of other females were led into room that looked suspiciously like a line-up or interrogation room. They were told to stand with their backs to the wall, holding a placard with their initials on it. _Like criminals_, she thought to herself, suppressing a grim smile. The room was brightly but harshly lit, the air a little dank, she assumed due to the metal walls and lack of windows. As she looked ahead at the blank expanse of wall, she could start to feel a small bubble of panic rise in her throat, but then, "We're done. You may leave," came from the Ministry worker outside the door.

"That was fast," Emlyn heard one of the girls mutter. She agreed. They couldn't have been in there for longer than a minute.

"I guess that means he found someone _very_ to his taste," another girl replied with a suggestive smirk.

They walked out to the hallway and were informed that whoever had been chosen would hear from the Ministry within the following days. The message would be a confirmation of the couple and would contain a date, time, and location for the marriage registration. Emlyn was more than shocked when she had received the note by Ministry owl.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of rummaging outside the door. It must have been Remus looking for another book. Honestly, he couldn't keep track of them no matter how hard the two of them tried- and she _had_ tried. They'd brought in a larger bookshelf so all the novels could fit in one space; they had even charmed the books to replace themselves once they'd been put down. For some inexplicable reason, though, it was a hopeless cause. They just couldn't take very good care of books.

Wiping the condensation from the mirror, she reexamined herself in the clear reflection. Emlyn turned slightly to see her back and the raised scars that crisscrossed it, creating a flowering maze on her skin. She remembered the first time Remus had seen them, three months into their marriage. It was the first time they'd had sex.

"Turn around," he had said, gently, oh so gently. She wasn't used to such a tone, and it made her more nervous than if he had demanded it of her. She had just gotten out of the shower and was in the bedroom, readjusting the towel when Remus walked in. He had frozen there at the threshold, the doorknob in his hand. "Please, turn around," he murmured, taking a step closer.

Emlyn obliged, unnerved by his quietness and gentleness, his caring. She turned around and let the back of the towel drop down low enough so that he could see the extent of her injuries. She knew they were pinkish and rather ugly-looking strips, and was about to say so when she felt his fingers, light as snow, tracing her scars. It was the most intimate thing she had ever experienced.

"Where are these from?" Remus asked quietly. She could feel him behind her, close enough to feel the warmth from his breath as he continued to look at her scars.

"That's part of the reason I hate mud-, sorry, halfbloods so much." Emlyn could sense surprise from Remus. "Two halfbloods did this to me."

"Why?" Did she hear alarm in his voice?

"I…" she started, then took a breath, "They said it was because I was a pureblood and that purebloods had to be taught lesson. 'Where do you go off getting all high and mighty?' one said to me."

"How old were you?" Remus had stopped tracing the lines on her back, but his voice melted with concern and she could feel his body move closer to hers.

"Thirteen," Emlyn said. "That lowest scar, the one that goes across my hip, is the first lash that I received. I ran away and they wrapped the whip around my hips to…recapture me."

She couldn't hear Remus breathe anymore as his hand found the scar she had described to him. Slowly, ever so slowly, his fingers made the trip around her hips, following the strip of raised, pinkish flesh. Neither of them moved. Neither of them dared to breathe.

Emlyn had known that that day would come. The reason for the Marriage Law was to get rid of purebloods, and to do that, pure- and halfbloods or muggleborns needed to procreate. She'd heard that around the four-month mark, the Ministry actually checked in on you to see how the marriage was going. Right at that moment, Emlyn felt like it was going in a very Ministry-approved way.

All at once, she had felt Remus' light touch very strongly, as if she were suddenly hyper-aware of everything. His fingers were warm against her cool, exposed skin, and his breathing had returned, his breath hot, almost burning against her skin. Emlyn felt him lean down very deliberately, and then there were lips on the curve of her neck. These, too, felt like they burned her, but they were soft and full, a strange feeling on her flesh. She felt her heart do a sudden lurch.

Emlyn's stomach was in knots when she twisted around to capture Remus' lips with her own. He let out a short-lived, surprised grunt, and then his hand was gripping the scarred skin of her hip, the other tangling in her hair, pressing her hot mouth to his own. As she reached up to pull him closer, the towel fell away and Remus cast it to the side without a second glance, fully focused on the way she moved against his body and the way his own body responded. The surprise and suddenness with which this was happening made everything more intense. He pulled Emlyn closer.

She curved into him as his fingers trailed up her spine, the grip from his other hand hard and tight at her hip. Surely she would bruise there later, she thought fleetingly, before Remus bit down on her bottom lip, drowning out whatever thoughts she was having.

At first, Emlyn struggled to remove his clothing, the buttons catching and Remus not helping much, absorbed as he was with kissing her. There was a burning, explosions happening in his stomach so that he ignored all else. Eventually she separated her lips from his, gasping, having to push him away slightly. He looked down at her, his eyes hooded with passion, but confused. "Your clothes," she said quietly, hoarsely, "I was trying to get them off, but you weren't helping much, and I think the buttons hate me."

There was a twinkle of humor in his eye, the corners of his lips slightly curving upward into a smile. She watched his fingers as he slowly undid the top button of his shirt, exposing the skin at his collarbone. He watched her as she watched him, leaning over her slightly, close, so close that there was barely a breadth of space between them. For some inexplicable reason, she couldn't meet his eyes.

"Emlyn," Remus said quietly. It was almost a question, but there was no response. She simply continued to watch his fingers slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt.

"Emlyn," he said again. His fingers stopped at the fourth button down. At the pause in action, she suddenly craned her neck back, looking him in the eyes. Whatever emotions Remus found there made him take in a surprised breath as Emlyn held his gaze, her hands joining his in unbuttoning his shirt. The only sound was their breathing, a bit heavy but in sync, when he felt his wife's hands on his bare chest. She broke their gaze and took to examining his skin. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her that he had scars- he was a werewolf, after all- but it was a bit unsettling, something Emlyn hadn't really been expecting to see. One particularly fresh scar caught her attention. It was a set of three parallel strips of deep, raw pink that extended from the middle of his sternum to his left hip. A three-clawed animal of some sort had done this. Emlyn traced the scars in imitation of their creation; she placed the fingers of her right hand on each strip and followed its path to his hip.

Remus hadn't been breathing, hadn't even looked at Emlyn as his scars stood exposed to her. Then he felt her fingers on his newest markings and was overcome with an animal urge to simply take her, standing, lying down, anywhere in the apartment. Before he could act on that instinct though, Emlyn beat him to it, kissing along his collarbone, tracing his scars with her lips. She surprised him. It seemed as though she were suddenly ravenous as Remus lifted her chin and bore his lips down onto hers in a heady kiss. He pressed down on her, forcing her backwards a bit, and she tripped over the previously abandoned towel, causing them to land conveniently on their bed.

Emlyn couldn't possibly describe what happened next; want had made everything fall into a blur. All she remembered later was the feeling of electricity from his fingertips, her nerves on end as he grasped and molded her body. She remembered constantly gasping, needing air but never really wanting it, breathing in only more of Remus. She had arched her back and dug her fingers into his shoulder blades as he entered her for the first time, painful but fulfilling, somehow completely and utterly _right_. It was a storm of skin and lips and fingers and sweat, the scent of their fervor, their excitement.

A knock on the bathroom door brought Emlyn back to the present.


	3. Chapter 3: Osculation

_Chapter 3- Osculation_

"Have you seen _Curses and Counter-Curses_ lying around anywhere?" Remus called from outside the bathroom.

"No," she replied, "Why? Were you planning on using a jelly-legs jinx on me as revenge for that tongue-tying one I used a few weeks ago? That was a complete accident." She opened the door, holding a towel around herself and came face-to-face with her husband. Remus paused for a second, surprised at their close proximity. She smelled like apples and jasmine.

"Actually," Remus said, a bit distracted. His eyes rested on her neck and the water droplets that still clung to her skin. "The thickness of the book is perfect to stabilize the nightstand."

Her mouth formed a soundless "oh," and she smiled up at him. For some reason he couldn't seem to move, but Emlyn moved past him and into the bedroom as if she hadn't noticed a thing. This wasn't the case, of course. She had waited for Remus to move aside, afraid that if she moved any closer she would lose all sense of self control and fling herself at him. The memory of their first time together was fresh in Emlyn's mind and she could feel a craving start to swell up inside of her. She needed to quash the feeling. It wouldn't do to pressure Remus into having sex.

As she brushed her hair, he walked in and lay down on their bed, a book in hand. There was a companionable silence, until Remus spoke.

"Strip."

Emlyn turned around, her eyes growing a bit wider. "Excuse me?"

Remus lay with a hand under his head, his eyes watching her carefully, his other hand placing the book on the nightstand.

"Strip," he repeated.

Emlyn stood stunned for a second, then raised an eyebrow. "Someone is being rather bold today." She held his gaze evenly, hiding her astonishment at being asked to strip, but then she realized he was blushing. His façade cracked.

"I'm sorry, Emlyn, it was a dare."

She mentally breathed a sigh of relief. Remus would never have said something like that of his own personal volition. "Who dared you? Sirius, if I can hazard a guess."

"Bingo." He hastily reached for the book again, embarrassed, back to his normal, quiet, contained self. "Sorry, honestly, Em-"

Remus broke off, watching as she slowly removed her towel. It wasn't booty-popping, hip-shaking stripping, but she was technically…stripping. He could feel the surprise plain on his face. Emlyn's eyes were gazing at him, tracing his face softly, her head tilted to the side in an innocent question: _Do you want me?_

There was only one answer.

Something growled deep inside Remus' chest, forcing him to stride over to his wife. He paused, hesitating over her as she looked up at him, so incomprehensibly and impossibly attractive. When his lips came down on hers, it surprised both of them to find that everything- their thoughts, their surroundings- melted away. Emlyn gripped Remus' hips as he curled around her, drawing her close. They somehow made it to the bed, stumbling and stripping Remus of his clothing.

Emlyn pushed herself on top, kissing Remus' neck, her hand tracing up his arm to lace their fingers together; she needed to grab on to something, to ground herself even if a little bit. She bit down on his collarbone, the salty taste of his skin meeting her tongue. Remus groaned, a deep, arousing noise that made her heart thrum faster and her core grow hotter.

Unable to take more of her ministrations, Remus pushed Emlyn down into the bed. Her hair fanned out on to the pillow, exposing the soft skin of her neck and collarbone, her eyes bright as she watched him. Suddenly, he went down on her and all hell broke loose. Everything was flesh and lips and heat until Remus paused, looking down at Emlyn. She stared back, her heart thudding against her ribcage, waiting for him.

"I love you."

Emlyn's eyes grew wide and she was about to say something, but Remus pushed into her, catching her off guard as she gasped in surprise.

* * *

When they finished, there was a calm drowsiness in the room.

"Why did you choose me?" Remus whispered sleepily. He was drawing lazy doodles on the skin of her hip with his finger.

"Honestly?" Emlyn asked back quietly. She felt him nod. "I figured that since you were a werewolf, you would be less bigoted; perhaps you wouldn't mind having a different type of outcast for a companion." She felt him shift a little closer to her, more of their skin touching, but Emlyn became more alert and paid no mind. He had replaced the shock of three words with the shock of seven inches, and now she wanted answers.

"Why did you choose _me_?" she asked with forced nonchalance.

"Honestly?" His finger slowed its doodling and she thought she felt him take a pause before answering, "I chose you because I loved you." Remus felt Emlyn freeze in his embrace.

"What?"

"We've actually met before," he started to explain quietly, gently. He didn't want to shock her too much with his confession and, to be honest, those three words hadn't simply been said in the heat of the moment. He had really meant them. Remus continued, "Do you remember the last battle?"

Emlyn stiffly nodded her head.

"Do you remember nursing a werewolf?"

Remus was pretty sure she had stopped breathing.

"That was me. I was so out of it that all I really remember of that night were your hands- they were warm, tender, caring. Without you, I surely would've died then. I saw the pink strip of scar on the inside of your right wrist that night and when I went to the Ministry, I was given the shock of my life- I knew that you had to choose a halfblood or muggleborn husband, but it was wholly unexpected that you would choose me. I was sure it was you after a few seconds; that strip of scar was unforgettable. And while I know that you'd thought that I was someone named Feron and that if you knew who I really was you probably would've left me to die, but I fell in love with you that night." Remus heard the slight note of pleading in his voice, begging Emlyn to understand that he was really in love with her. "And please, don't think that I'm only in love with that image of you, tending the wounds of a werewolf. We've been together for nearly three years and I've grown to love everything about you, everything that you've shown me. I love you, truly."

There was a heavy silence. Then, Emlyn drew away from him, the air cold on his body where she was no longer there. She sat up, pulled on his large shirt and got off the bed, walking out the bedroom door without a word, without a glance back. Remus' chest hurt. He couldn't move, couldn't get up and go after her. He laid there on the bed the rest of the night, sleepless, Emlyn occupying the sofa in the living room.

Up until then, their marriage had been full of initially polite days followed by times of pleasantly quiet, companionable silence. This was not one of those calm silences. It was a cold one, bitter and a little sharp. Remus was at a loss, unsure of himself and not knowing what to do as their home remained immersed in mute silence for days.

Emlyn didn't know what was going on. His confession had surprised her and for some reason angered her. It was a crazy feeling, but she felt as though she had been betrayed; this marriage was for the sake of following the law, not for personal interests. Emlyn had felt solidarity, camaraderie with Remus, believing that the both of them had had their hands forced and that both were merely complacent with having to live with each other. Surely it was pleasant enough, but then he went and told her that he loves her, really _loves_ her, out of the blue. What on earth was she supposed to say to that? She had never considered love a part of her life, had never considered love at all, much less with her law-enforced husband. Was she supposed to say that she loved him back, even though she herself didn't know? What would happen if she didn't love him and told him that? What would happen if she did love him? Would anything really change? Emlyn blamed Remus for suddenly complicating their simple and comfortable life together.

* * *

"Breakfast is ready," Remus said softly to her as she pulled on a shirt. He padded back down the hall to the kitchen from which the scent of waffles filtered through the rooms. As she sat down at the small dining table, she paused and realized that those were the first three words that either of them had said since Remus' other three word confession a few days ago. Emlyn watched as he cleared up the kitchen, moving from counter to sink and then back again, the sun shining on his flaxen brown hair, as though his head grew strands of gold. Emlyn realized she wouldn't want anyone else cleaning up the kitchen in the morning, and she was suddenly hit with a great desire to hug him, hold him so close to her body that a piece of him would sink into her skin and stay with her forever.

"I'm going to take a shower," her husband told her. He seemed tired, making his way slowly to the bathroom. Emlyn sat there, took one bite of her waffles, then paused. She heard the familiar pitter-pattering of water as Remus turned on the shower. She stood up from the table, letting her breakfast go cold.

He didn't hear her when she opened the door to the bathroom. He didn't hear her take in a nervous breath, hoping that he wouldn't refuse her. He didn't hear her remove her clothes from the other side of the shower curtain. He did, however, hear her slip into the shower with him, and he did feel her lips pressing into the skin below his neck, between his shoulder blades. His heart skipped a beat as her arms wrapped themselves around his front, small and lightly scarred and beautiful. He brought her right hand to his face and tenderly kissed the strip of scar on her wrist. He turned around. "I love you," she slipped out, just as his lips crashed down onto hers.

* * *

_I know it wasn't a very exciting story, but mellow was the goal here. Hope you enjoyed it! *Insert subliminal message encouraging you to review here*_


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